hat
wherever she goes it will come out. Isn't it dreadful? Do do something,
if you can. I am rather anxious about George. I hope the dear boy is
well. If you are passing his club some day you might look in and just
ask after him. He is sometimes so naughty about writing. I wish we
could see you here, dear Grig; the country is looking beautiful just
now--the oak-trees especially--and the apple-blossom isn't over, but I
suppose you are too busy. How is Helen Bellew? Is she in town?

"Your affectionate cousin,
"MARGERY PENDYCE."

It was four o'clock this same afternoon when the second groom, very much
out of breath, informed the butler that there was a fire at Peacock's
farm. The butler repaired at once to the library. Mr. Pendyce, who had
been on horseback all the morning, was standing in his riding-clothes,
tired and depressed, before the plan of Worsted Skeynes.

"What do you want, Bester?"

"There is a fire at Peacock's farm, sir." Mr. Pendyce stared.

"What?" he said. "A fire in broad daylight! Nonsense!"

"You can see the flames from the front, sir." The worn and querulous
look left Mr. Pendyce's face.

"Ring the stable-bell!" he said. "Tell them all to run with buckets and
ladders. Send Higson off to Cornmarket on the mare. Go and tell Mr.
Barter, and rouse the village. Don't stand there--God bless me! Ring the
stable-bell!" And snatching up his riding-crop and hat, he ran past the
butler, closely followed by the spaniel John.

Over the stile and along the footpath which cut diagonally across a field
of barley he moved at a stiff trot, and his spaniel, who had not grasped
the situation, frolicked ahead with a certain surprise. The Squire was
soon out of breath--it was twenty years or more since he had run a
quarter of a mile. He did not, however, relax his speed. Ahead of him
in the distance ran the second groom; behind him a labourer and a
footman. The stable-bell at Worsted Skeynes began to ring. Mr. Pendyce
crossed the stile and struck into the lane, colliding with the Rector,
who was running, too, his face flushed to the colour of tomatoes. They
ran on, side by side.

"You go on!" gasped Mr. Pendyce at last, "and tell them I'm coming."

The Rector hesitated--he, too, was very out of breath--and started again,
panting. The Squire, with his hand to his side, walked painfully on; he
had run himself to a standstill. At a gap in the corner of the lane he
suddenly saw pale-red